


Zombie Bait

by AkaneOwari



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Cannibalism, Gore, Implied Manga Spoilers, Multi, No Titans, Panic Attack, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaneOwari/pseuds/AkaneOwari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced to grow up alongside a group of cannibals during the zombie apocalypse, a little over a year in, children Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Fubar and Annie Leonhardt are sent out to prove themselves as useful members of the community that took them in; in other words, sent to find new stock for the cannibals sacred meals. They target a settlement that has defenses of three towns, protected by walls that lead to each other, orchestrating a risky plan to infiltrate the outer wall and target unlucky victims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survival is Food

**Author's Note:**

> it's going to follow canon that the three actually end up staying in the walls, joining up ranks to fight the undead, but that'll be introduced later. this is a prologue more or less to set it all up and get me started u_u

“Are you sure this is going to work?” A quiet voice carried over the silence, voice filled with caution and reconsideration of it's placement.

Another voice came in reply, female and stern. “It's the only way to get into a settlement this big. We've got no other choice, unless you want to get caught trying to sneak out with a herd of people attached to your hip.”

A third voice, then, deeper than the other two, more confident than the first but weaker than the second: “Just help round them up, Bert. Remember, go for the smaller ones that we can carry, or handle their struggles. Annie and I won't let this go wrong.”

The one called Bertholdt let out a noise of unease, still peering out to the gates a hundred feet away. It seemed impossible, but they had no other choice; come home with food on tow, or don't come home at all. If they even tried, they'd just end up as the next meal to their settlement, devoured under unforgiving teeth and greedy, starving hands.

His eyes fluttered to the pack upon the third members back-Reiner, was his name-envisioning the contents inside the green film. Preserved rations, scrounged from houses on their journey. Home did not provide them with extra food, despite the dangers of ransacking houses and stores crawling with the undead. Survival was complete key, and no matter how fond their home grew to them, they would be rejected at the sign of being unable to care for themselves or survive out in the open. Survival was eating, sleeping, drinking, fighting; this mission was one to prove themselves, and they intended to complete it with a bang, bringing enough livestock back to feed everyone the specialty of human meat for weeks on end.

Destroying an entire settlement, a well-known one that began at the start of the mess over a year over, thriving with hundreds of survivors that each worked their keep...Protected by three walls, each one considered a 'town' in it's self, they fought against the undead beasts roaming viciously in search for another warm body to consume.

Just as the trio were, actually; but they were different from the biters, being living, breathing humans. Cannibals-the type of survivors that infested their entire settlement. Along some line of insanity pushed the concept of devouring human flesh in worship of the plague that wrecked the world, but that wasn't how any of the three saw it. In a kind of guilty admittance, they would claim to like it for as it was, the taste and sport.

It was considered dark and taboo, even in the world destroyed-other groups, with understandable and wise caution, steered clear from cannibals, and even took initiative to wipe them out if they could waste the resources. 

Humans fighting humans when they shared a common enemy; it was nature, to them, to strike war over mundane things, for them to create conflict for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

This was a world where you grew up too fast. The kind of world where mere children held responsibility for being sent out to herd other people through an unforgiving landscape so that they could dine over their flesh and marrow.

Bertholdt was the youngest, months younger than Reiner, at age 12; Reiner, also 12, still took the role of being an older brother for the boy. Annie was the oldest, at 13, and acted much more mature than the other two, beyond her age-what age she acted of didn't hold a number, but only the harsh reality of how closed-in she had become, being thrown into a life where you stabbed an already dead man in the head and wiped his gunky, black blood from your forehead; where you watched a man's neck be slit, his body skinned and cut like a pig.

“Let's go over the plan, again,” Bertholdt suggested in a mumble, his lack of confidence overwhelming. He couldn't be blamed for it-he was just a kid, hungry and scared like any other kid.

Reiner couldn't help but let out a tired sigh. They had gone over the plan a hundred times on the days travel, so it felt like, for the sake of him. Annie's blue eyes skirted over the two, eyes lingering on Bertholdt's tall, broad frame, to Reiner's barely shorter and stockier build. Older as she was than them, they looked so much more grown-up than they had ever appeared before the day the dead woke with an unsatisfying hunger. 

She responded before Reiner could begin over the details, allowing her calm and confident words flow over the two males. 

“I'll begin rounding up zombies nearby to follow me; we're between two major cities, so there are plenty around, and it won't be very hard to gather the attention of a small horde with same loud noise. Bertholdt, with your grenade, you will destroy the gate into the outer city. You will both head in, and Bertholdt will begin rounding up people in the chaos-hopefully, you'll go unnoticed as being outsiders. Act like frightened children, but remember that it may take force to get people to follow you. You've both got cuffs and rope to help you.

“Reiner—you will head to the gate that leads into the main inner city, where the citizens are more located, versus the workers that stay in this small sector. You've got tools and a gun to open the gate; we want to flush people into the woods, and they'll be more likely to run out than try to wait for the gates to open, if we can create enough chaos.

“Once the front gate has been blown, I will lead the zombies in. Remember that we aren't immune to their bites, so stay safe; we're all three needed for this. Grab people, run while we can, and we'll escape the onslaught. Lie to people if you need to, but remember-children and other teens are the easiest. No old people-they won't make the travel, and taste like shit, anyway.”

A dead silence rang over past the three at her finished explanation-as many times as they had already heard it, it was comforting to hear right before they did so, knowing that no details would be lost. Of course, it was much more than it sounded, and they risked being bit as much as everyone else, but they had the knowledge of it happening to prepare themselves. 

Silence filled the air in favor of thinking about how hard it would be, in reality, for three barely teenagers to handle getting other people back to their camp.

“...Well, then. Let's start, before the sun rises,” Annie finally sighed, the three of them stirring to wake muscles cramped from camping in the huddle of overgrown bushel.

There was a small pause, before Annie turned and began to run, her steps loud and crashing to attract the attention of zombies nearby. Bertholdt and Reiner shared a look, eyes creased with worry and fear-the taller boy reached into his pocket, removing a small grenade that fit into the palm of his hand, black with grim and surprisingly heavy.

“Sh-should we do it now?” Bertholdt whimpered, fingers latched onto the destructive weapon, his breath growing heavy into the night air-Reiner could barely see his face over the shades of night.

“Another few minutes, until we hear Annie starting back,” Reiner mumbled, straining to listen to her crashing steps. It didn't take long, the noise suddenly increasing, the two boys taking a moment of shock to realize the noise had amplified with the sound of zombies crashing behind the older girl; there was no hesitation, Bertholdt needing no prompting, to unlatch the grenade and toss it at the gate; it bounced against the bottom of it, rolling only a foot away—The two dove away, covering their ears as taught, the last thing in their vision being Annie hurtling towards them, staggering bodies hitching after her.

The explosion sounded of red fire, looked like deafening thunder; the gates blew open, awaking the settlement within Wall Maria.


	2. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flaws in the plan were a consistent worry. They knew they'd be there, but had foolishly ignored them; even Annie chose to not voice what they had all been pushing to the back of their minds. Scared children, praying that the plan would all go smoothly and perfectly down to the last detail of the main objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> somewhat following canon though of course it's going to deviate 
> 
> the next chapter will explain more on how the military and cities are set up+how big each ring is ye
> 
> it might be a timeskip as well idk i'll update in a few days to a week

Everything crumpled around the ungiving force of the grenade: the gates, held by a thick steel lock centered on the handles of the inside-facing entrance, did not sway and break links-though the hinges snapped on either of the double-doors, sending it flying into the settlement. The barbed wire that so gracefully sat strung overtop of the whole wall, gate and all, found mark in a stray guard, effectively crushing him and grazing deep barbs into his flesh, hooking themselves to give no easy escape.

The gate and wired man sailed, the momentum too much for the impact of a single body to slow it, finding final flight into the propped shack that was the supplies shed of items being imported and exported from the outside, to the walls, to settlements beyond; items that would enter and exit had to make home in here for check, nothing gone overseen in proper paranoia that was humans hurting humans. The splintering explosion of metal doors destroying the wooden shack, preservatives and items being ripped into and flattened, spoiling into a hundred pieces over the floor left as dirt and grass-long-flattened by the past hundreds of feet grooving their marks into the ground was a sound that was lost amoung the cacophony of destruction.

Next to the wall, sitting on stilts of medium reinforcement, a guard tower shattered-the napping guard inside awaking with a shout as he fell with the structure, rusted nails ripping with angry force, twirling and spinning. Splinters and rough nails alike found new puncture into the flailing man, shooting him with pain twisting with the sickening stomach lift of falling and inability to grip stability. He lay, crumpled on the landed but still shifting rubble, bleeding and ripped.

There was too much for anyone to have noticed the girl sprinting in, followed by two others who split from her side, diving into the dark. But as more moments passed, suddenly becoming quicker passing as those living in the pocket rushed outside, candles and lamps and flashlights in hand, the zombies did not go unnoticed. The first scream rippled into the night air as the undead noticed their new marks, the children from prior target forgotten by rotting minds. Two found themselves over the guard mauled by splinters and nails, his gun strewn somewhere from his sight and knowledge; greedy hands gripped his pink flesh, gorey residue painting him where they touched. Hands slimy with decomposition, they still managed a strong grip. The damned man gave a screech to join the chorus of fearful ones as zealous maws ripped flesh and muscle from bone, hardly pausing to stop. 

When a biter had a victim at hand, the world was lost around it. Another living being could stand there and speak to it, taunt it and shout, but it would remain unphased and continue to devour what it could. It may even play with the body, curiously ripping the innards to grip at and observe organs and intestines, tasting a little of each like a buffet after the initial excitement of the capture wears off. 

One may be able to pull the beast away from it's meal if they attempted physical contact, or removal of the body. But once the biter feels that it might have warned away the attacker, it would return to the body, willing to share with another undead or two; but nothing other than true death would let it leave the kill before consuming the bulk of it.

They were not slow, but they were not terribly fast-a staggered fast-walk at most, something almost anyone could eventually outrun and lose tail of. But in the confused bustle of bodies trying to see first what was happening, bewildered and shocked, no one had the mind to run, and those that did found themselves held back by the masses that could not force their feet to reason. Only when the front line of walkers reach the people, taking a vice grip on those unfortunate enough to be unable to escape in the thick crowd. 

By now, the barracks had emptied as guards came to attention, fumbling with guns in fear unknown since the beginning of the entire walking dead incident. The outpost guards had come around as well, guns already at the ready, too scared though to shoot into the crowd in fear of hitting civilians. 

Of course, their abandonment of their posts left great openings for the kids to break into the main wall. 

It was double-locked: one on each side of the gate, in the form of a similar chain with a heavy duty lock made of steel. The chain itself was thin, and though tough, nothing the boys couldn't destroy with a few minutes of using pliers. The main issue was getting the lock on the other side open-both of the boys worked to loose the chain on their side, becoming frustratingly worried when the door still did not budge. 

Flaws in the plan were a consistent worry. They knew they'd be there, but had foolishly ignored them; even Annie chose to not voice what they had all been pushing to the back of their minds. Scared children, praying that the plan would all go smoothly and perfectly down to the last detail of the main objective. 

“Get me over,” Bertholdt suddenly whimpered out, pressing his palms flat to the cold metal. His neck arched up, quivering eyes surveying the carefully constructed barbed wire. “The guard tower—help me get over the wall from it.”

“Hurry. People are going to be headed here soon,” Annie warned, the screams very audible from their location. Reiner let out a noise of irritation, all three pausing to think over what to do. They could always round up the people just here, but many of them were damned to the onslaught; the possibility of escaping with others on tow, with many on tow, suddenly seemed so impossible. Reiner and Bertholdt were big for their age, but just children. Just small, scared children that had caused more deaths than the screams piercing the air.

Useful time was being wasted in the silent debate. No amount of time, however, could have prevented the downfall of the plan as it happened. No planning could have prevented what they should have known would have happened: After a brief rattling, the gates swung open, reinforcements spilling out. 

Many of them ignored the three seemingly unharmed children, spilling out towards the noises and chaos-a flame licked up in the distance, the smell of burning oil and wood tainting the air. 

They were stunned into silent shock, staring up at the soldiers as if they expected death by the machetes and pistols gripped by tight hand. But it did not come-one soldier stopped, stooping low so that she could peer at them with inquiring brown eyes peering past athletic glasses, the glass thick like goggles. She noted the fallen chain at their feet, the fear written over their features...And offered a smile, reaching down to pick it up.

“Clever children! The flight instinct-was it only you three that had enough sense to flee right away? I don't know how you expected to get to the other side, but I guess we should count ourselves lucky that you took this chain down for us. Otherwise, the runners wouldn't have been able to get through,” her voice quipped in an inappropriate cheerfulness, face too light for how anyone's should be in an intense time. Her words were quick, the praise honest; if they hadn't cut the chain, it would have taken longer for them to cross over, costing lives.

She gave them no time to respond, sweeping behind them to push the through the gates as soon as the pathway cleared-some stayed near the entrance, rifles hoisted carefully for the appearance of a stray enemy. 

“Don't worry. We're preparing for a breach, as startling as it is. You're going to be fine. Is your family in there?” Her excitement had dimmed to a serious calm. She was young, thick hair pulled into a messy ponytail, unkempt and greasy. As young as she was, she was old-older than them by age and maturing experience, and by the dirt coating her face marking hard work.

They gave petrified silence in response. Her face contorted in what would have been sympathy for what she believed to be their fear struck by the undead, putting no pressure into proper reply. Instead, she only nodded her head, dropping the question. “We've got trucks to transport you and the others to Rose. We're clearing out of Maria until we find and fix the breach. They should have started already, but you'll be the first of the rescue's from the port.”

Slender fingers with precise muscle pointed out; as if on cue, a truck rounded behind buildings much more sturdy compared to those in the other section of Maria, a flatbed attached to the back. It pulled up next to the four, a few seconds later being followed by yet another truck. Everything was coming to life around them-lights from the cars and lamps threw red into the black night sky, people were spilling into the streets, directed by guards with rifles at the hips and grim lines set upon their face.

“Climb into the back, kids. We've got plenty of protection, so you'll be perfectly safe,” she urges them forward, the children stumbling to the gray-set metal, hauling themselves up by lifting their feet of cement and curling their knees over the side. As if unbalanced, they settled into the back corner, pressing against each other silently and without eye contact. They didn't want to say it. They had not only failed, but unbeknownst to anyone else, been captured. Bertholdt, with shivering fingers, let his hands reach out to touch the hands of his companions who were on either side of him. They melted into the touch, taking comfort. 

“I have to go now! Stay safe! Others will be joining you shortly!” The soldier, then, before leaving them to head back into the warzone, gave a salute: her right hand curling over her heart, other arm wrapping behind the small of her back as her shoulders set stiff, posture perfect. Then it was over, in a mere second, and she was running with new vigor past milling guards, through the doors that they had helped open. 

Gunshots rang in the air. Screams began and were cut off either by the time passing or a burst of bullets. Fire painted the sky more red than the lights brought out so everyone could maneuver. 

“How are we going to get home?” Bertholdt whispered, breaking a bubble of incredible tension. He didn't meet their gazes, but only stared out past the raging flames that spread, growing closer, clouding the air with thick smoke. A man tumbled through the gates, wheezing, his skin covered in burning welts, a bone sticking from his ankle. He didn't seem to notice the break, only screaming that he was in pain, begging for help. A man whose face they could not see raised his pistol, treating his wounds with a single shot to the head. Others moved in, taking his body back inside the gate to clear the passageway. There were an impossible amount of soldiers and guards, each noticeable of being some different specialty, logos get upon their backs, shoulders and left breast: Twining roses, spread black and white wings, and the regal head of a unicorn-the latter seemed to only appear a fraction of the other two, and none of them went through to the action.

“I don't think we can,” Annie finally responded, knowing Reiner lacked the ability to respond without making things worse. “We can't go home unless we bring people with us. We can't make it through without being seen, now. We'll get bit, anyway.”

Silent acceptance of her words trailed, cut off by the shriek that zombies were being attracted in still, by the noise and fire. All around them came the sound of cars as they loaded people in, relocating them to the middle wall. Survivors of the pocket were streaming in, though few and scared, clammering into the beds of the towed backs and shivering with fear. They climbed into both, though neither seemed very filled. 

A scream rang out from one woman, pointing and garbling comprehensive words, though her meaning was obvious; an undead had staggered to the gate, shot down after it's foot had made it just past the line. 

The hollers of retreat began to ring, soldiers eagerly spilling out of the killingzone, covered in blood and gore. It was impossible to tell if it was their own, or the zombies. With the soldiers came the final survivors-they all three watched each of them, people of all age though few. There were many kids, like them-another trio had piled into their same truckbed, two boys and a girl. One of them sat slightly away from the others, and they could see his eyes that watched the ever growing fire as they had, tinting turquoise iris' with red rage, his anger and horror. The other two had tried to reach out to him, but he rejected their comfort, opposite of how Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie accepted each others presence to cope. 

The engines of the trucks rolled on, the purr only adding to the overwhelming noise already bursting. Soldiers leapt into the flatbeds were there was room, and seconds after a pathway had been cleared, the evacuation vehicles began forward. Flames licked at the walls, now, rushing forward as if beckoning everyone to come back. The screams from behind the walls had not yet ceased in the night air.

“What are we going to do?” Bertholdt's voice was barely a whisper over the anxiety inducing raise of the engines.

This time, not even Annie had words to even attempt to cease their worry. In silenc surrounded by chaos, they allowed themselves to be taken into the middle city.


	3. Two Hours and Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you're part of the military?” Eren had perked up again, his original demanding anger melted completely into curiosity. “Why have you come to us?” 
> 
> “Why do you think? You're all being enlisted into training. It's what you owe for us saving your sorry asses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lots of parts where it stays canonish and then derives completely off, yeah
> 
> the story is mainly focused on reiner, bertholdt and annie, but for obvious plot, others are going to be included and focused heavily on as well for certain periods of time
> 
> sorry for writing short chapters, i dont like writing huge ones u v u

“It was a concise attack. The gate was blown clear off.”

“So by the living, then.” 

“Indeed. The dead were led right in.”

“What for, though? Food? Supplies?”

“There...Isn't any way to tell, I'm afraid. Our teams are working alongside the stationary guards to put the fire out, still. We believe, though, that the supplies in the Southern Maria Port have burned down completely. There is an estimated 30 civilians dead, and more missing. The fire has spread to the main wall, which has been completely evacuated of civilians into Rose. Teams are working on emptying the reserves for food to transport to Rose. Those in displacement are being offered temporary homes until we can do something else. There are a counted ten children under 18 years of age without living family after the attack.”

“And when is the fire going to be put out?”

There's a long pause, grief sifting the air between the speakers.

“When I said spread to the main wall...I mean, it's completely wiped out the southern sector. It's stopped burning there, but nothing—Nothing is salvageable. We've stopped it from spreading towards Rose, but as for the outer parts of North Maria...” Helpless shrug of the shoulders.

“..I see. Locate anyone with the knowledge to investigate something like this. You said it had been 'blown off'?”

“I did.”

“And am I assuming correctly that by 'blown off', you mean an actual explosion?”

“You are.”

“Large? Small?”

“I—I don't know, sir. I never made it quite as close to the outer gate. But, some others did say that it took out the gate completely, as well as several yards around it. I don't have an actual estimation, though.”

“Thank you.”

He pauses.

“The Church is calling it a punishment from God, you know.”

Mouth twists into an unpleasant smile. “...And?”

“And nothing. I was just thinking of it.”

“...I see. I suppose I'll keep it in mind.”

“Just a thought. Dismissed, Major Hanji. Remember to--”

“--Commander, wait! Listen to me for just a little longer, I have some thoughts of my own.” The Major insisted, suddenly stepping forward to place her hand over his desk; slender fingers curled into a fist, covered in dirt and ash from previous hours ago. The sun had risen not even an hour ago, marking it to be seven in the morning. Two hours. 

The man ranked above her let out a tired sigh, his own fingers tapping over the spot they had kept seat in. Many more were waiting to speak to him over the matter, willing on him to make decisions and choices for the better good of everyone else. Two hours.

“What?” He had meant to sound irritated, but could not force himself to sound so when speaking to this particular woman. Instead, his voice carried tiredness and the will to listen. Two hours. 

“Erwin—Commander...What will we do about the displaced children? Everyone else can find somewhere to live, sure, but the children...” Images of everyone she had encountered, the innocent contours of the faces of the young...The first three came to mind first, the ones that had by some miracle opened their side of the gate just in time in their own attempt to flee to safer ground; the living escapee's owed their lives to them. They, and everyone else, could have died if it weren't for them. Two hours.

He gave her no response, his brows pulling in new thought. 

“They need somewhere to go,” Hanji prompted his thoughts further, imposing over his seated figure with her own desperate one. “I know everyone needs a home, but at least the adults can fend for themselves better and find work. I'm sure a deal of the kids are old enough to do something, but they still need somewhere to sleep, someone to make sure they're fed!” It wasn't even a matter of motherly nature for the woman, whose knuckles blistered white from pressure against the worn wood of the Commander's desk. It was survival; children were the future, if there would be any. They would grow up to take on responsibility and raise children of their own, as terrible as it was to raise children in this world. There were very few newborns in the settlements, most of the children under a year old having been conceived before everything went to hell. Those who bore a child now did receive special treatment and the freshest food and medicine, no complaints from anyone. Preserve the future-it was the nature of the sane. 

“No one in Rose is going to be happy about it. The children population in there is larger than it was in Maria-this entire thing means people are going to have to share their rations, share rooms that they don't have,” the man stated, though it was all obvious to Hanji as it was. She did not reply, her gaze piercing as she demanded silently for him to continue thinking of resolve. Blue eyes stared back at her, thought filing through them. Hanji could immediately tell that he had finally thought of something, something that required moments of thought to pull words together so that they would sound nicer than they already did. That was the thing about Commander Erwin-he was willing to take risks that would kill. Not many liked his ideas, for good reason, but more than often things turned out fine and well, only the blood-stained ground and limbs mauled over the ground reminder as to the cost.

“We lost a lot of runners saving citizens of Maria. We lost a lot of each faction, actually, though you're well aware. You were on the field yourself, weren't you?” He still eyed her, sweeping over her face carefully, thoughtfully. Hanji understood what he was intending, though still, she waited.

“Let them repay Humanity by joining up ranks. They know the horrors, now, of watching others die around them; of others dying for them. So wouldn't you agree, Major Hanji? Teach them to use arms and blunt weaponry, teach them how to run and climb and to not only take down the walkers, but living humans as well. Teach them how to shoot and use an animal, how to inject medicine, how to amputate an arm...” Erwin's face glinted with silent laughter, features pulling back into a smile not large enough to even be one, muscles only taut as if wanting to. 

“And all that jazz.”

Hanji snorted in humorless amusement, though her eyebrows still perked at his rather descriptive request. They had lost many of their ranks, nearly a third of the southern runners, though for a young child to go through training that even an adult struggled with...There was no other choice. They'd be able to stay in the barracks, would get rations equal to or more than what citizens received-fresher, in the least-and contribute greatly to the society. After moments of hesitation, she nodded. 

“I'm glad we could reach a conclusion, Erwin,” her mouth pulled up into a crooked smile, hand reaching to take his. His own hand, clean but calloused, took hers, not even a little surprised that her lithe hand held just as much strength in the shake as his own. Hanji was hardened and tough, as he was; not only was she a runner, but a scientist, able to cope with more gore than most of the lot of workers. She got up close and personal with the biters and the bit, her own apprentices finding trouble staying with her when she went to work. 

“I'll round the children up as soon as I can, then. I'll send my own team out to gather the zombies for practice, as well. The sooner they're ready to be on the field, the better for us. The dead doesn't rest, so neither should we!” Light on her feet, the scientist twirled from the room, the door closing behind her with worn creak. The room had already been cloaked in near darkness, but now-now the darkness was all so much more real, alone. Only by the flickering light of the candle, dancing delicately with the mans breath every few seconds, gave glowing reprise. Sunlight of the rising break of day attempted to stream through the window, fractured by dust and dirt coating the panes of glass.

Two hours. Two hours, a third of their land fell. Two hours, countless dead and walking once more. Two hours, important rations that can never be recovered lost to billowing flames. Two hours, two hours, two hours. Everything can go to fucking hell in just two hours. A year of work, two hours. 

There was no 'what caused this'; it was WHO caused this, who had torn down the gate, who had ruined the peace and sanctity. Whoever had caused this would not go without justice when found. There was no 'if' found. There was no if, and, but, or's to any of this-it was when, how, who. He didn't know if the deviants still remained within the walls, if they ever actually crossed into the pocket of Maria, but even if they hadn't...They'd still be nearby. Why destroy part of a civilization if you didn't intend on taking anything? 

With a heavy sigh, Erwin turned to face the window, watching the heavy curls of smoke drift lazily over Rose.

 

 

“Get up, you lazy pieces of shit.” 

By accident or instinct, the children gathered inside of the refugee house had all merged to a single corner of the room, huddled together in their separate groups, or loners pulling into pairs to try and counter the loneliness and assaulting thought that their parents and family were no where to be seen. Very few of them slept, though some had drifted into restless slumber, shocked awake by the deep voice that had found it's way to them without anyone being alerted. 

Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie, of course, sat together, already used to being against one another in search for warmth and comfort. All three remained awake, shaken more than the others-but no words were exchanged, the silence too heavy for the situation to be discussed, for comfort to be exchanged. They still did not speak, eyes only traveling to meet the speaker, whose body was heavily shadowed by the few lanterns in the room. He was short, appearing small despite his tone, the darkness a match to his almost dangerously poised body. Even in the toned dark room, the irritation that flashed over his features was visible. He stepped forward, the children in front of him flinching back.

“Did you hear me? I said, get up. The sun has been long up and we have things to do.” 

And again, he was met with stupid faces. Ready to bark at them much more harshly to defeat the stupor, he was surprised when a single boy rose, his friends murmuring at him in surprise. He stepped forward, and even in poor light the shine of life in his eyes was evident, burning mixture of blues and greens. He was more alive than the fire burning by oil in the contained glasses of the lamps. The man's shoulders had been pushed forward, but at the approach of the soulful boy, they set back in gesture that as determined as he may be, he was still below.

The movement didn't phase the boy. It could have been stupidity brought on by the shock of the events, or plain stupidity, but he had still purchased interest from the man. 

“Why? Who are you? What are you even talking about?” It was almost laughable. His voice was still high pitched from young age, his body still lanky from uneven growth spurts, but words bold and trying to sound more threatening than he could manage to muster. 

“If I wanted to tell you any of that at the moment, I would have already, brat,” the man sneered, mouth finding a smirk as the boy fumed at the response. He almost looked ready to take a swing in fit of emotion, bristling. He was not heartless; to defy the boy would bring mistrust and immature defiance. 

“..But I am Levi. Corporal Levi.” He sighed out before the brat could retort. “Tell me your name.” 

He seemed somewhat shocked that an actual answer had followed, but his expression relaxed in the slight, no longer acting as if the Corporal was a threat. 

“I'm Eren-- Jaeger,” he added his last name in a fractured manner, noting the recognition that flashed over Levi's face. The short man gave a nod of approval, humming in interest. 

“The son of Grisha and Carla Jaeger, hm? A respectable family to be from.” The sight of the boys face, falling at the compliment, finally cued Levi onto what he should have already noted, considering that he was here in the first place. Tacking on with genuine feeling, despite very little grief tainting his words, Levi gave condolences. “..I'm sorry for your loss. Grisha was one of the best doctors we could have ever asked for. Carla herself was a wonderful woman with a big heart.” 

Eren's gaze had dropped, much of his vigor draining in apparent pain at the loss. “Actually..My dad wasn't here during the attack. He had gone out to visit other villages—for supplies and trading.”

It still meant very little. The forms that presented Grisha Jaeger as having left in the first place, with what he carried, and expedition arrival time had all been lost in the fire. The same went for documents naming each citizen inside of Maria; documents of citizenship destroyed, meaning each and every one of them had to fill them out again. It struck unease in the officials, knowing that someone could have easily snuck inside of the walls, but there was no choice; no one could prove if they were truly citizens before, so it was a risk to be taken. Rumor had it, as well, that whatever-whoever-had destroyed the outermost gate could be here at this very moment...

“So you're part of the military?” Eren had perked up again, his original demanding anger melted completely into curiosity. “Why have you come to us?” 

“Why do you think? You're all being enlisted into training. It's what you owe for us saving your sorry asses.” 

The expressions of reaction differed greatly with each child-Eren looked actually thrilled, his face glowing once more against the darkness. The two he had been sitting with held different resolve, the blonde boys face turned to concerned hesitation, the girl with Asian features unreadable. Many others took on similar expressions of concern and fear, though there were two-sitting in a group of three, the only females face not alike theirs-that took on masks of absolute terror. They looked at each other with desperate faces, including the almost solid yet gracefully mourning girl, as if there were answers they needed-but no words exchanged, and his interest dropped from them. Of course they would be terrified-you would be insane to not even be a little scared.

“Now, all of you, get up and follow me. It's time to teach your useless bodies how to fend off the dead and survive in the outside. You'll have a number of instructors for who teaches what, and you'd better bet your pretty little asses that you're going to learn a lot.” Corporal Levi waited until they stood on weary legs, barely stepping forward as close as Eren had dared to come. “Now, you all should know by now of our three factions: Peacekeepers, Wallholders, and Runners. You'll all train for the same thing, then split off for whatever you choose. Don't forget that Peacekeepers are reserved for those of...special skillsets, so don't think that you can escape from actual duty that easily.” His voice droned in the same monotone, annoyed way that it had been ever since his first few words. 

Without looking back, Levi turned from the quivering children and began the stroll to the training grounds, the huddles of young bodies streaming at his wake.


	4. Survival is a Choice with Unknown Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Survival is survival is survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im sure i dont have to explain the parallels of the division of military duty, it's more than easy to figure out what correlates. different people get different placement from canon and i miiiiiight go into the character development of why, though annies is obvious
> 
> also apology because not a single one of these chapters have had a beta (no nevermind im not sorry im writing this for my own enjoyment)
> 
> next chapter someone gets to be eaten hell yeah

Survival is survival is survival. 

That was the undeniable law of the land, no matter your morals or desires. People would be murdered by the hands of other people, by the hands of the decomposing flesh/muscle/bone masses that dragged around, and by the earth itself and all of it's old tales of nature versus man. Such is the nature of man itself, always pitting the living against the living and against the dead all of the same. The nature of the living dead was the simple old tale of devouring flesh, chasing prey with absolutely no regard to its own life. 

If it wasn't the three trying to kill you, then it was yourself killing you. Motivation, lack of, sanity, hunger and thirst-combinations of anything else and more could be your survival or downfall, no point that at least one of those on any given occasion is hunting to stake your burning life up and away. 

Everyone around you could betray you at any given time. It stuck consistently in the smartly paranoid mind-how easy could it be to just fucking kill everyone around you and loot them? Shoot them, stab them, hold them down to the snapping jaws of the walking dead...Everything in between and even further than that. Of course, that would render you completely alone. Safety is numbers, is the more bodies between you and them, is those who become willing to die for you.

There isn't any way to deny the thoughts you have abut sacrificing others to stay alive; even if you're willing to die for others, that natural instinct to let others die before you lurks at the edge of your mind and swirls at each and every scenario offering death. 

Survival is survival is survival.

“It's been two weeks, Reiner.” A soft whisper, traveling barely inches through the air before sound faltered and was lost. Blue eyes gleamed upward, and though her face was set still and almost bored, her eyes gleamed with fierce demand for resolve.

Reiner sighed, drawn out and heavy. His hands worked at the stick before him, palms rubbing furiously to gain friction. Bare smoke rose from the lodge of the log in front of him, not even sparking or hinting that he was close to his goal. “I know. But there isn't any way to get out; you know that.” 

“Our first run is tomorrow. We can escape then, make off from the rest of the group with good time--”

“It's too risky, Annie!” His voice rose higher than he meant it to, finding gazes reaching up to the two. He ignored them, making sure that he spoke more lightly, casting his amber eyes at the short girl. “They'll notice if we branch away. It's safer to wait longer, until we go out on our own.”

Her face fell, turning attention back to her own attempt at starting a fire by hand. It wasn't much better of an attempt, smoke rising only slightly more than the one Reiner had. “We can't stay.”

Reiner did not respond, letting a drawn out silence tense the air between them. Bertholdt, on the other side of the boy, could feel the stemming clash; it hadn't been the first in the two weeks, with Annie eager to take any chance for break, and Reiner acting too cautious to move out. It had taken less than a week for him to appear to become comfortable with interacting with all of the others in their training group, which had grown from the time they had been drafted in-when word got out around Rose that the position training for factions had opened, children came stemming in from all ages of the teenage years. Unlike him, Bertholdt and Annie kept away from the others, rarely interacting on their own accord.

“Reiner, you're doing it all wrong,” came a bemused voice, the three being startled from their firework. It was Armin, the blonde boy that had been with the trio of Eren. Eren himself was nice enough, but filled with a kind of clashing anger and drive that could make being around him tiring and stressful. Armin, in contrast, avoided conflict unless necessary. He wasn't very strong nor tall, but where he lacked physical endurance he could make up with his intelligence. Everyone could outrun the walkers, but he would be one of the few that could actually manage to trick them. He got along with everyone and held no grudges-he even took the time to talk to Bertholdt and Annie(whether or not they bothered to reply to anything he said) in the assumption that they were merely shy or fear-striken.

He crouched in front of Reiner, knees finding stability against the rounded crook of the timber. Carefully, letting his body language let Reiner know that he was going to take over, he removed the ignition stick from the much larger hands that had held it. Annie and Bertholdt watched silently, and Reiner could feel—from the tension between them that already linked contempt, Annie's annoyance at the approach. It wasn't Reiner's fault, she knew, and there was no perfect rationalization to describe her anger other than they shouldn't be there for this to happen. 

Speaking loud enough for the other two to hear, he worked them through the steps; it still took a wonderful ten minutes for him to get the flame burning, but considering he was the only one other than the instructor that could remotely do it, it was an incredible feat. Following his advice to the bone, the other two still could not do it. Armin could only shrug, offering a sheepish smile. “Feel lucky that they give us batteries and matches on the actual run. This is just for emergency, but it's still important. Don't give up!” He reached over, patting the broad shoulder hunched over in frustrated stare at the fire. 

“Yeah, I won't. I'm determined to master this eventually. Thanks, Armin,” Reiner nodded, grabbing a fistful of dirt to sprinkle over the swaying flame, dousing it. Beaming, the small blonde picked himself from the ground, walking over towards Annie—only to sense the poison radiating from her air, backing off the second he touched it. Stopping to consider if he should say anything, he settled for turning to nod farewell for the time being to Reiner, strolling back towards his own trio. 

The third member of their group was Mikasa, the halfbrother of Eren, terrifyingly protective of the boy. She seemed to always be out to keep him from trouble, if he sought it or it sought him. She was just as determined, if just more put together than Eren. She didn't talk unless provoked or necessary, distancing herself much like Annie and Bertholdt, but she put her all into what she did. She was scary, despite being a small girl, holding more potential over even the strongest boys. 

There were others: Jean, Marco, Sasha, Connie, Mina, Tomas, Hanna, Ymir, Christa and many others. They all traveled in pairs or bounced around, each having personalities and skills unique to themselves that stuck out. It was impossible to avoid anyone completely, and whether you liked it or not, you got to at least know someone's name. 

It was comforting to Reiner. He would be unable to deny that he enjoyed being around people, people of his own age. It wasn't home, which was an anxiety that pressured his insides to such a degree that he had to force himself to not think about it, but it was still a comfort. No one questioned the three about their families that they stayed with in Maria-all information had been lost in the attack and fire, and everyone had been hurt to degrees that rendered them unwanting to speak.

Everyone but Eren. He was furious-a boiling rage that showed in each combat task, despite his lack of standing abilities, shining above others from his sheer pure will to destroy what he blamed for the death of his mother, the death of his home, and the assumed death of his father who was a week overdue for coming home. Furious, heart-stopping will. Rumors easily spread that it was attack of a neighboring village, which Eren would back with the disappearance of his own father. Blaming people and zombies, swearing that he would behead them alike until the decapitated head found will enough to admit it's foul deed. It gave the trio tremors of unease, but they attempted to silence the anxiety by convincing themselves that their actions would never be found out.

The day neared it's end. Such activities as fire building were left for the last hours of the sun, physical work completed during mornings and afternoons. Some days had been spent learning individual skills with pieces of other things tossed in, but almost always there were a few hours of muscle and endurance training. Dinner was soon—after dinner would then come separation of factions. Among each group, everyone discussed what they would pick; Corporal Levi had indeed forced them into training due to loss of lives during the attack, mainly the Runners and Wallholders, the front line attackers in an emergency. Peacekeepers often most stayed in the richer town of Sina, the inner wall. They were intended to protect their Leader, but were said to live an easy life as fat and lazy, as no one found the will to attack their heart. 

“Runners,” Annie only murmured to the two boys. “We are Runners.”

Reiner nodded in agreement, but there was hesitation in his eyes that once more spurred irritation into the girl. She wouldn't lie: Rose and Sina were a place that life could be lived, but they could not abandon their mission. For all she knew, their settlement assumed them missing and dead, something that she wouldn't be able to accept. All three of them were alive and thriving, still only a third into the plan; they had infiltrated the enemy camp, but had not yet captured anyone to bring home. Perhaps if they had aspired to only grab one or two people, everything would have gone much more smoothly, but ambitions had been pressed too high...

It would be easiest to snatch one of the other Runners. 

But, then again..Only one person wouldn't suffice. She could play along with Reiner's caution for now, but she wouldn't let him forget. She'd remind him herself, tomorrow. 

A bell rang across the air, traveling over the training field—everyone stood from their work, brushing dust and ash from their worn trousers. They were all anxious to finish the meal and get to the recruiters, and be given the corresponding jacket so that they could don their duties to everyone else. Not many were inclined to join up the Runners, but the constant berating from Eren had actually ended becoming something of an inspiration. The question lingered of what would come if they slayed most of the zombies, freeing more land, letting them actually live free.

Often came the lecture that they were living akin to cattle lined up for slaughter, barely fighting for life anymore. This caused insult to those who had been through more than they could say; to most everyone, who all had to pitch in some form of work to make sure that life could progress inside of the walls. We would be cattle if we didn't have the walls to protect us, they said—but Eren insisted that if they fought to kill more rather than hide, the walls could be used as an excuse. 

With feet heavy from wear and a frittering heart, Reiner made his way to the mess hall reserved for trainees and Runners alike. Rations today would include canned snow peas and canned sweet potato, and in celebration for their making it through the short training, a cut of fresh meat for them all. A cut being less than the size of a medium sized palm, but nonetheless it was meat. 

The three sat at a table together, plastic plates filled with each the roughly same amount of food. In silence, they ate while most everyone around them buzzed in energy. The meals never took long to finish, being just enough to ensure the body wouldn't give out later into the night from whatever activities were brought to their undeniably still malnourished systems. 

The ceremonies took place over the training fields, a commanding officer from each group placed evenly out, standing tall and proud as they eyed the gaggle of still young children. None of them felt good about pulling in young, young kids-ages from 12 to 15, this was a war that they should have been too young to fight in. But sacrifices had to be made. Children were easiest to make into soldiers, and they seemed to come in high supply than older teens or adults even. 

The death of children to progress the majorities lifespan and survival was a sacrifice to be made.

Commander Erwin of the Runners stepped forward, first. He was larger than the Wallholder and Peacekeeper Commanders, built from the constant expeditions that kept his body in tone. The murmuring of the crowd of trainees fell short, coming to attention.

“I'm not going to lie to you. I've seen peoples lives come and go in a matter of minutes out there, and it has nothing to do with skill. You have to be prepared and willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. Being a Runner is rewarding work in the long run, knowing that your life on the line but it's out there to keep everyone alive and safe. Over a third of our numbers were lost during the attack last week, and we've suffered for it. Many of you are survivors of the attack and already know firsthand what the walkers are like.

That is why I encourage all of you to offer up your hearts to the duties of a Runner and honor those who died for you so that you could stand here today.”

He stood with his back stiff, right hand curled around his heart, bottoms of his jacket curling with the movement of the proud gesture. 

There was a drawn silence before the next speaker came forward. The Wallholders talked about how important it would be to guard the barriers that kept them from the main danger, how that if they didn't uphold the duty of reinforcing it and keeping the number of walkers that gathered outside down, that everything of the society would crumble.

And finally, the Peacekeeper Commander came forward talking of order amoung people and that by keeping the citizens in order they were doing important work to let the main system run smoothly. 

And then it was time for the children to break off and make their choices.

Numbers split off, traveling in predecided clumps to the Commander of their choice. With a quiet glance at each other, Bertholdt, Annie and Reiner went forward to Commander Erwin. Right by them came many of the survivors from Maria and others. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, Ymir and Christa...

A surprisingly large clump found themselves as Runners. Only two had chosen Peacekeepers: Jean and Marco. A small gathering chose the Walls; it took only half a minute for the numbers of divide themselves to where they desired to be.

And just as easily as that, it was over. The Runners broke from the group and began towards the barracks, not looking back at the past but the future of the following day.


	5. You are what you eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hold still, Reiner, hold still.” The voice spoke over sobs, a pitying sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyy big plot development and more plot next chapter
> 
> this one was shorter, gomen
> 
> imagine these young ass kids eating another human being  
> thats fucked up  
> this fucked me up  
> i love cannibalism

“Annie,” came his breath, broken and wheezing with disbelief. 

“Annie, what the fuck is this?” His words sounded split, as if a hammer had been taken to them. Quivering fingers hung against his own chest, the cold air not the main source of their stiff stature, Reiner could not budge his body an inch. He could only stare down at the mess in front of him, sprawled by a fire crackling with pops against dry leaves and branches. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening. Blood, the smell of overpowering iron metallic striking and clouding his mind. The smell came with the memory of taste, thick over his tongue as ghost flavor dappled his taste buds.

She did not respond to his horror. Blue eyes, desperately trying to hide their actual fear, lingered over his own umber ones-they trailed his down to the fire, built as a pitiful spitroast, flames licking at chunks of flesh mingled with muscle dripping blood. Not inches from the fire lay the mutilated body that which the flesh had been stripped from. The spots where she had sawed it out were ragged and messy, unclean with inexperienced hands: Annie had never done this herself. She had payed close attention to mimic what she had seen, but her small hands struggled to actually rip a steel blade through still-warm flesh, to puncture the bloody red body onto a stick. 

Uncooked flesh felt disgusting. It was not as nasty as the moments you may grip a rotting section of a zombie as you plunged a tool through it's head, but it was still nasty. It smelled terrible, it felt quesingly warm, and stained her hands and under her nails. Yet, drool built up in her mouth as well as Reiner's, Bertholdt's too as he stood behind them both, the guilty swelling of want. 

“Why did you do this?” His voice hitched, and he finally stepped forward, glued to the smell of the flesh cooking, overpowering the disgusting scent of blood. Behind him, a branch snapped to finally break Bertholdt's silent standby. 

“A-Annie...” He muttered, his lack of words proving the same disbelief as his friend.

“Why did I do this?” She repeated the question as if it should have been rhetorical. “You seem happy here, Reiner. You fit in with these people as if you should have been living here all along.”

Her knife flew down and punctured the skin, driving into the flesh of the dead man. Tomas, Reiner would recognize when finally spotting details. Tomas with his disemboweled stomach, and legs torn to ugly bits. 

“I won't force you to leave this early. But I will force you to remember the taste of who we are.” There was no mistaking that Annie wasn't gleeful over what she had done; there was no mistaking that she had forced herself to do this, unable to stop the trembling in her body as she removed the first spit from the fire, placing a new one over it. She was only a child, after all. 

“I want to go home. I want to go home before you mistake yourself for a goody-two-shoes soldier and take Bert with you.” Her voice was asserting, demanding, and scared. Her hand thrust out, presenting them with three chunks of the flesh--Reiner took one after hesitation, Bertholdt following lead, letting Annie have the last remaining piece. It was pink and gray, poorly cooked, but still brought on salivating desire for the treat. 

She didn't have to prompt him to devour the meat. It was rough, stringy, and mostly tasteless aside from the absorbed assault of smoke and blood that remained trapped in the middle. Each of the three spent their time chewing on it and reminding themselves of the texture, no matter how stringy it may have been. The boys were crouched down next to Annie by the time they finally swallowed, the taller boy taking the knife in hand and contemplating carving another round from the leg should he be more steady handed than the blonde female.

“We don't have enough time to keep eating,” Annie mumbled, turning the meat impatiently over the flames, which danced in flickers of death. The boys faces fell, Bertholdt finally driving the slicked red blade through the flesh, wincing at how it glided through with resistance, no blood from the dead seeping out of the wound. It drove from his flesh to out, digging into the ground from the back of his thigh. “We'll leave Tomas for the zombies, I guess,” she shrugs, staring at the body unsurely. Disposal hadn't been her main worry, but if his body was found, it'd appear to definitely be a murder rather than an unlucky run-in with the undead.

The boys didn't argue, eyes trained on the last skewer. It amazed Annie, to see them and feel herself; she hadn't realized herself how much she missed the taste of human flesh, that she had ever grown so fond of it to begin with. Vaguely, she could recall her initial horror and contempt for the practice, but enough hunger and loons around you could convince your mind to do just about anything. Eventually, she grew used to it-every week would bring another body, and she'd partake in the consumption indifferently, eventually looking forward to the schedule. Reiner and Bertholdt conformed before she had. Reiner was always a people pleaser, eager to fit in with his peers and get along. Bertholdt trailed behind the two, struggling between powers—he did what was demanded of him, and as meek as he could be, could powerfully execute orders. 

Reaching forward, after letting the dying flame kiss the meat for another minute, Annie took the skewer in hand. Her fingers caressed over the first hunk to take for herself, interrupted by a pained scream-it took seconds for her to realize that the scream did not come from someone far away, but from right next to her. Reiner had been jerked back, clutching fearfully behind him, trying to dislodge the jaws that had claimed the junction of his neck and shoulders. Bertholdt let out a shriek of terror, pulsing backwards into Annie, who shoved him away and sprung forward.

Her knife was in Tomas' leg, who was the same animated that had appeared now. He let go for an instant, letting out a growl of irritation as Annie lunged forward and shoved him; the walkers were clumsy, and he was no exception, his left leg partially limp from the injuries previously obtained. His arms swung out, fingers splayed in attempt to grip whoever came near. Not wanting to risk leaning down to grab the knife, which would be more difficult to extract from the now-working muscles it buried in, she straight forward lunged into his chest; pushing him against the tree he had stumbled at; his breath rancid against her face, jaws snapping and eyes wild; her fist found his neck, stunning the dead man for a second; desperate force driven with adrenaline found the pressure to be enough to snap through the support of his neck, driving into his spine.

And like that, the boy was redead. 

Annie stepped back, letting the body collapse to the ground; one hand still held the make-shift skewer, the other covered in gore where the neck was ripped open from the inside out. 

All was still and quiet, until she heard a wail of distress, sobs shattering the air. Turning around, the sight of Reiner with a gaping bite wound met her eyes, sending a wrack of terror through her body. Bertholdt was kicking the fire out, shoving leaves over the ashes; immediately after, he was at Reiner's side, pulling him up onto his feet. He moved confidently, while Annie stood stunned; moments later, new figures crashed into their spot, other Runners. Levi was in the mix, shoving his way past the recruits to the sobbing boy. He grabbed Reiner's arm, hardly needing to inspect the injury to understand what had happened. 

“Let's get you to Rose,” he muttered, his voice calm and commanding. Reiner did not resist, stumbling after the Corporal. Everyone watched, some following, others beginning to turn their attention to their teammates who had seen the boy become attacked. No one said it, but a heavy silence stretched over the children: they all knew that the blond boy was to die. When he succumbed to the fever, they'd knife him through the ear to ensure that he didn't rise once more. The disease did not only pertain to the bitten; die in any form other than head injury, and you would rise once more. This fact had been forgotten by the trio in their excitement for the human flesh, leading to the worst scenario. 

Annie had the mind to stuff the cooked meat in her jacket before eyes fell on her, the only attention to her hands being her bloodied hand; the obvious weapon used to kill the walker. Armin padded over, kneeling by the crumpled dead man; after a quick look, he announced to everyone who it was, receiving a confused, mourning reply from the others. He stood, gazing sadly at Annie and Bertholdt; the older boy had crested against a tree, his hands covering his face. Tears spilled from between his dark fingers, distressed whines slipping past his unseen lips. Annie only stood there, still in shock, her eyes training on Armin as he moved about. He didn't near Bertholdt yet, approaching Annie to give his sorry; his own blue eyes only barely looked down at her, staring into her cracked glaze. A new light shone over the orbs, speaking of her despair—it was the most emotion he had seen show at once in the usually stoic expressions. 

“...I'm really sorry.” He paused, as if wanting to ask more but decided against it. After getting nothing but an unchanging stare, he backed off, moving to Bertholdt to repeat himself. 

 

 

.

 

“Hold still, Reiner, hold still.” The voice spoke over sobs, a pitying sadness. 

Seconds later, his breath hitched as an injection seared into his veins, letting his body go limp with new calm; he had been given a morphine injection. Hanji stood over the boy, stroking his hair in a motherly fashion as she inspected the wound now that his body had stilled. Children died quicker than grown men or women, and his time would be soon. She would have wanted to continue to experiment with his risen dead form, but they didn't do so with children-not with children of their own people, in any case. Enough children had died under her eyes that all she could gleam for data had been gleamed, leaving her feeling as if there was not enough to do only watching him die.

Replacing her injection hand was a knife, poised and ready; the hand in his hair trailed to his neck, fingers placed overtop his artery, feeling his pulse for when it gave out. 

A frown twitched over Hanji's lips at the feel of the beat. It was...Fast. Too fast. As fast as healthy boy injected with the drug she had given him. A boy would be slipping into death by now, his pulse faltering and weak. But Reiner—his face was pale, but features were not sick. His lips held color, regaining it over the long seconds, cheeks flushed rather than empty. His breath was as even as his pulse: he was not dying.

Scattering to her equipment table, Hanji grabbed her gear, rolling it to his resting form; she peered into his eyes, which were relaxed now, the whites red from crying, but bright, dilated, alive. His heartbeat sounded as steady as the pulse she picked up, measuring to be healthy for the amount of blood lost from the now closed wound. The skin around his nails did not turn jaundice when she cleared the hardened black blood from them.

“Reiner, ReinerReinerReiner...” she spoke his name in breaths, excited as she went over his entire body. The course of five more minutes, and nothing changed; heart leaping, Hanji went to clean the bite over his neck, only pulling a single protesting groan from Reiner in his drugged state. It looked like any other bite, deep and nasty, unclean. But he was not turning. He showed no signs, of which even a grown man would have been able to show by now.

Her hands slammed down against her equipment cart, shaking and convulsing in frantic thought. Her eyes watchd him, large and watchful like an owl. A hearty laugh soundly sounded, heard only by her own ears as she declared her answer to the matter.

“Reiner Braun, you unlucky bitten son of a bastard! You're immune! Immune!” Her head tossed back, eyes tearing up in something of joy for his life being fine, and joy for an up until now unknown ability. “You're immune!” She cooed out the word, her voice falling soft.

His only response was a soft moan from whatever gripped his drug-ridden dream, head lolling off to the side.


	6. Falling Towers Mending Shields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone actually reading this anymore  
> (echo)
> 
> i dont care  
> im enjoying writing this  
> good job jessie u did good <3

She lay on her cot, facing the open room on her side. In front of her sat the three hunks of meat, cold, but otherwise fine. Her stare stayed over them, traveling over the curled creases of the stringiness. The meat that had come from the boy who bit Reiner. Her stomach twisted, willing her eyes shut so that she would not have to gaze at the sight anymore. 

She was the only one in the barracks cabin; even Bertholdt had not found his way inside with her, off with the other recruits doing god-knows-what. Mourning, maybe. She would not mourn by their side, but her own. They didn't have nay right to mourn him, hardly knowing who he was and what he did—they had no right to ever call him their friend. Not a single one of them would have ever known him like she had known him. They were scum, nothing more or less, and if they hadn't pulled the three into this mess of a civilization, this would have never happened. It was their fault.

Creaks splayed over the floor of the cabin, the planks that supported them up as creaky as ever. No one could sneak up on anyone in hear, much less get up to take a piss without everyone knowing. They continued towards her, irritation flashing in her head as she violently wished them away. But yet, she couldn't keep her eyes from flitting up to meet whoever approached, rather than play sleeping. 

Who else would it be than the ever-worrying Armin Arlert? 

She did not let kindness of any kind seep into her gaze at him, pinning the small boy just as guilty as the rest of them. Her lack of excitement towards him only made his own face fall into pity, as if he thought he had the right to feel bad for her as much as he did Reiner. Heat billowed in her stomach, commanding her to rip his head from his shoulders and dig out his spine, snap it to pieces—leave the broken parts piled around for all to see and find their regrets at what they've done, at what they earned for themselves. Because they had earned it, earned to see this poster child littered in blood and bones in the sleeping quarters, the supposed safest feeling space they'd ever have. Let them know that even in a spot like this, they could be rued. 

“How are you feeling, Annie?” Came his gentle voice, carrying perfectly like it should to tend to someone filled with grief.

She did not respond. 

“We're worried about you, so I volunteered to come check-up on you...”

What did he expect her to do? Fall to her knees in gratitude for his selflessness? The same selflessness that had Reiner dead, had him prepared to be burned in a pit of ashes with other men unworthy of having his burnt remains scattered over his?

“You should come out with us, if you're up to it. You'll feel better, I promise.”

Did he expect her grief to pile into a glittering ball of repression and burst in sudden realization that it was just that easy to stop missing someone? It took all of her energy to keep her face from losing it's hold, keeping it the same as it had been when the kid had first entered the room. Tired and sad, bordering something of a lack of expression. She was never very good at expressing herself. It was a waste, anyway-what did it matter than anyone else could understand her, so long as she understood herself? Better to leave them in the dark, unsuspecting and unsure. 

“Is this food yours?”

No shit, Sherlock. 

“Meat...That's not a common meal.”

Neither is meat that specifically comes from another living, breathing human. A living, breathing human that turned undead and took it's revenge by taking the life of one of those that consumed him.

“But I guess they'd try and comfort you with a treat, after all...”

Her expression did not change. She would not communicate with him, the dirty wipe of a stain that dared call himself worthy.

“You should eat it before it goes cold, though. You don't want to waste it. It looks like quite a lot, anyway.”

She would not eat the man that killed Reiner. He was even less worthy than anyone here. She felt glad that he was dead, and then double dead. Glad that his body had been chopped and ruined. He deserved that and more.

“..I'll come back to check on you later if you don't come out with us, okay? We're all in the training lot, not far from her. Bertholdt is out there, too.”

He hesitated from leaving, standing over her. Did he really think she'd grace him with a good-bye? She hadn't even been able to tell Reiner good-bye. He was only mocking his death, not alleviating it as he thought he was. 

“Take the meat.” The words left her lips before she could stop them, surprising herself. She wanted him to take the meat? Why did she want that? “I'm not going to eat it. You should. Let your friends have some.” Another surprise. Her voice was calm, level, even friendly.

Armin blinked, his muscles paused as he considered her words. But then, he shook his dead, frowning at the girl. “I can't take it, Annie. It's for you, and you need--”

“I'm not going to eat it, so don't let it go to waste. Just take the meat.”

He looked as if he wanted to protest, but didn't push her any further. Instead, he bent down and took the meat carefully in his small hands-hands smaller than even Annie's-and let them shift between closed palms so that they would not tumble and be ruined. To himself, he thought that he'd bring her something if she didn't show up for dinner, which he had a feeling that she wouldn't. 

“Stay safe, Annie,” he finally murmured, turning from the cabin and leaving the girl to be on her own.

 

.

 

Something about the entire situation set Armin on edge. No one questioned Tomas' death, assuming that he had been bitten and then bite Reiner in turn. Details were not demanded of the two remaining children of the trio, not prying into the depths of what would haunt them and their young minds. But Armin wanted details; there were many things that caught his eye when he had shortly inspected the scene and body, but it hadn't been the proper time to bring any of it up..

He swung his way back to the group, finding his spot next to Mikasa and Eren. They nodded in greeting, not bothering to ask how it had gone with Annie; neither of them expected much to have come from it. After comfortably kneeling, Armin finally held out his palms, revealing the food he had brought with him—both of the other two immediately went for it, picking out a chunk and pulling it to their mouths, thanking their friend graciously. 

“Thanks. Annie had it, but she didn't want to eat it. She gave it to me, told me to share it...” He shrugged, watching their faces knit with some surprise. Eren took his time to chew, face knotted up in the confliction of waiting to finish eating before speaking out. 

“She gave you her food? I don't think she's ever done something so nice before,” Eren mused, though nothing about his surprise indicated reluctance at her change of heart. He would have figured one way or another that she'd be struck with more emotion than anyone else, having been one of the closest to the bitten boy. Bertholdt was barely holding together, himself. The runners were being extra careful, trying to talk him through the grief and have him ride out the pain as soon as possible. Most of the children-Eren, for a good example-had yet to get over the death of their parents and family in the fall of Maria. They didn't show it as they used to, no longer spilling tears without warning in the least appropriate of times, but still harbored the gross twisting in their stomachs. 

Bertholdt did not lose it, but he cried. He was silent, small despite being the tallest of each of the children, his form huddled on the ground and knees drawn protectively to his chest. Some had tried to lend comforting touch, but he shrunk away from the groping hands, covered his ears when they tried to speak to him. It was all that they could do to keep the boy outside with them. 

But he was listening. His gaze seemed distant, but his ears were listening to conversations not meant for him. The exchange between the three other friends, huddled opposite of him, caught his most attention and allowed a noticable change of air from the aura of grief. Wide eyes slide up, watching them eat the meat, utter surprise and some ironic knowing glinting in his green iris'. And of course, it would be Armin who met his gaze as he swallowed his own dry hunk of nearly tasteless food, clear ocean blue eyes mirroring his own panic in attempt to figure it out. 

Bertholdt feared that the longe he'd look at him, the quicker the boy could strip his emotions and lay them out to piece everything together. Blinking, shattering the air of old tension and bringing new, Bertholdt scrambled upward, blocking the protesting cries of Armin calling out something. Everyone joined in a chorus of trying to stop him with words, but he wouldn't comply, pushing forward in a half-jog desperate to locate Annie and interrogate her as to why she had done what she did, why she fed fucking human flesh to innocent kids, what the hell was going on with her--

He burst through the door, lungs wanting to explode, his breath short and tight. He couldn't get an entire breath through, couldn't satisfy his demand for air, black dots dancing in his vision. It could have been his sudden oxygen deprivation, it could have been the anxiety that willed his chest to burst. His ears felt clogged, and he suddenly found himself kneeling over the ground, wheezing, hands numb because he never felt them smash over the floor. It must have made some kind of noise that he didn't hear, because Annie was suddenly at his side and he could hear her voice in the distance, like she was whispering. He wanted to tell her to speak up, but he couldn't talk himself, aware of suffocating noises rolling from his gaping mouth. He couldn't breath, he couldn't breath, he wanted to get some air but his throat had closed and light couldn't stream into his eyes, his body was going to tear into bits. He could feel something on the back of his head, the most faint touch. But he couldn't tell what it was doing, he didn't want to be touched, hadn't he made that clear to everyone? Cold brushed over Bertholdt's cheek, and he became unaware, his thoughts drifting into nothing.

 

…..................................................

 

“Immune.”

“..Immune?”

“Immune!”

This wasn't quite the response Hanji had been hoping for over the exciting breakthrough of immunity being a thing; Levi only looked up at her, his brows brought together as if he didn't understand still what she was saying. Behind her sat Braun, a crisp white bandage wrapped over the junction of his neck and shoulder, the bite hidden from view; but he should have been dead an hour ago. Dead and alive again, only for a blade to be slipped into his ear to puncture his brain. He slept, but he lived. 

“Levi, he was bit. It was a spot where we couldn't amputate, so I did nothing to try and prevent his turning. I only gave him an injection of morphine so he wouldn't feel the fever, but there was no fever! His vitals are stable other than considerable blood loss, which has already stopped, but everything is fine! He never slipped into death, I've been watching and keeping track! I want to do a lab, compare his blood to a zombies and someone elses', maybe my own, but do you understand? It's a breakthrough, I could make a cure, I could--”

“Be quiet for a fucking second, would you?” Levi cut her off, striding past her figure to loom over the child set on a gurney. Gray eyes traveled over his features, which were not that of someone stricken sick by the death bite, pre- and post-death. He couldn't see the bite, of course, but he wondered if the skin around it had blackened as his blood became tainted. If it had tainted, of course. “Hanji...Could it be that the chances of infection are something along 99%, rather than 100%? If the disease spreads through the sharing of blood and saliva, something like that, then maybe the kid was just really fucking lucky.”

The scientist cut in immediately, making it aware that she had already considered such a scenario possible. “That's possible, yes, but when I cleaned his wound there was substance that wasn't from his own body. It was like black-sludge; in other words, what becomes of someones blood after zombification!” A terrible time to use absurd words as zombification, as accurate as it may be, Levi's eyes narrowed. “I don't actually know if it made it into his blood stream, but it had too! His bleeding didn't stop until I intervened, giving the blood a perfect chance to settle into his body. Unless the strain has suddenly mutated to infect slower, for survival reasons, the only explanation could be that he is immune!”

“Alright. Then test the brats blood, see what the hell is up. You'd better let him know how lucky he is to be alive when he wakes up. Dying on a first mission? Shameful.” Levi scoffed, turning away from the body.

Hanji paused, her head tilting back to ponder. “..Don't feel guilty, Levi. It's not your fault that he would have been dead--”

“--Drop it, four-eyes. I didn't say I was.”

“Yes, but you're using humor to cover up that--”

“--Did you hear me? I said to drop it. I don't care if you're a 'higher rank', I'll tell you to shut it as I damn well please. It's none of your business, anyway.”

With a thin-lipped frown, she didn't press the matter. She didn't doubt for a second that he would have put the blood on his own hands; he wasn't Erwin, who possessed the ability to look past many deaths for the sake of many more. Levi himself could come across as cold and uncaring to the untrained eye, but she had known the guy for her entire life. They had had some..Questionable relations, but all that mattered about their past to her was that she had utter and complete trust in his choices and actions. To Hanji, each insult was another declaration of their friendship. 

“Mm..Alright, Levi. Why don't you go tell the new recruits that he's fine? Don't give them details, I don't want them to get overexcited or start spreading false things. You know how kids are.” It sounded innocent enough, but as she said it, there was immediate regret—pain flashed over Levi's expression, breaking his usual stride of unique expression. Hanji's mouth gaped to utter apologies, but he had already melted out of the room like a shadow running from light. 

Guilt sinking in her stomach, she cast the matter from her mind; it wasn't any time to think about that, though she should have been considerate enough to have remembered not to say anything along those lines so casually. She'd busy herself with Reiner, for now—now was better than never, when he wouldn't be awake to have his blood drawn. She was sure Erwin would catch wind of the matter though Levi, whom she hadn't restricted him from telling, so it'd be nice to have more information prepared for when he arrived. It'd be nice, for now, if no one else heard of what was happening, though it would be next to impossible to keep it from the other runners. They'd want Reiner back, and might even object to the constant drawing of his blood to try and produce a cure. 

But if she could find what exactly was about his blood that caused immunity-if that was what it was-then she could begin testing everyone's blood for similar features, or find similar blood-types that might accept the blood with the mutation...If they could find a cure, it would change everything. Sure, no one would want to get bit in the first place, but if they could prevent the bitten from death, the human race wouldn't cower and hide and lose land and supplies! It would be the biggest step yet for the survivors, allow them to progress into life and avoid extinction. It might take a damn long while to kill off all of the half-dead bastards, but it'd be finally reasonably possible. She constantly wondered if even the CDC or other popular developers had come across anything as extraordinary as this; if she could contact them, share this information that this sanctum had brought to the world, she could possibly grant the poor souls protection..And those that wished to work avidly towards the greater good, such as herself, the possibility of work. 

But that was getting much to far ahead. She wasn't sure how his blood worked; did it accept the blood of the zombie to be like it's own? Did his own blood manage to defeat the tainted cells? Whatever it was, she prayed it could be replicated. If it wasn't...All of those hopes would be crushed. 

It didn't take long to get a suitable blood sample from herself and Reiner, to which she took a sketchbook to map out the comparisons of her own blood to his. 

Her own blood structure was the same as she had remembered it; only a couple months ago, she did something similar which led to the confirmation that even while living, the disease sat in them. It would only be triggered upon death, bitten or not. As she had put it earlier, 'zombification' was inevitable. It was a terrifying truth; no one would have a peaceful death. 

By the time she was moving to Reiner's sample, he was moaning, the morphine wearing off. She turned to smile at him in greeting, his confused gaze fluttering over her. He seemed lost, disoriented, but all very alive and human. His color had paled once more, no doubt from the amount of pain his should would be giving him for awhile. No flesh had been torn out, but muscle had been damaged and would require healing time and therapy. 

“Wh..what?” He questioned in a weak voice.

“Welcome to the living! That wasn't very funny, was it? Sorry. But, really—you're more than lucky, Reiner. You didn't die from the bite, you're not turning.”

His stare slackened, trying to judge if she was being serious or not. But of course she'd have to be, or he wouldn't..He wouldn't be awake now, would he? His mind was heavy, and nothing was making much sense at all. He should be dead, not alive; his head fell back down onto the weak pillow that propped it up from the mattress of the gurney, eyes slinking closed. Not turning...What did that mean?

Everything at that sudden point became frustrating and confusing. He figured he must have been dreaming; he was too tired to be interactive in the seemingly lucid dream, letting himself lay down and watch without much interest. It was just a dream, anyway, so he wouldn't worry himself with the troubling images.

It started with Bertholdt suddenly being there; Annie suddenly caught his vision, who worried over a limp body of the taller boy. With an inaudible laugh, Reiner wondered if the boy had told her about his crush on her and fainted in his fear. He wouldn't put it past Bertholdt. Was Annie crying? She's looking at him now, at Reiner. Then she was by his side, looking at him; how had she gotten there so fast? He didn't even see her move. She's whispering his name, cautiously. It even looked as if she were crying—which meant it was definitely a dream, because he had never seen her cry before. He let out a laugh, which he was sure was out loud because Annie was frowning and shaking his shoulder. 

He wished she'd leave him alone to rest. Go back to her dream thing, whatever was happening with Bertholdt's crush. Did he say that out loud? She looked even more confused than before, but then Levi was shouting something and she was going back to the others. Each motion was slow, and everyone appeared somewhere that they weren't only a moment later. It was loud, someone was counting off numbers, and it hurt his head. His shoulder ached so badly, he'd almost rather go ahead and die, becoming a walker or not.

With a groan, he forced the noises out of his head and forced himself into a deeper dream. If he really was still alive like Hanji said he was, then he could see Bert and Annie next time he woke up and tell them all about the weird dream. She knew about his crush now, anyway; or was that just the dream? It didn't matter right now. It only mattered that he just get some damn sleep.

Within moments, the noise and harsh colors melted into a blissful, silent darkness.


End file.
